He lives in your life,

like that long forgotten letter,
inside the aged envelope,
now dis-colored,
that came from the lover who once had confessed all,
who bared the depth of his soul,
now lies hidden in the closet,
never thrown away, but very seldom taken out and read again,
it stays almost always out of her mind;

It must be comforting to know that someone once loved you such,
especially when at times the world fails to side with you
and makes you feel all alone, all so different,
it serves a purpose you see,
nothing is without a meaning, nothing ever wears away completely,
but all the rain does not feed the plants,
some goes wasted,
and some flows away for other purpose to serve,
and when the cycle is complete,
the lover is loved and the loved becomes the lover,
but only if the cycle is complete, ever;

But for some, the envelope stays,
as it is,
inside her life,
silent and patient, trapped and incomplete,
one just wishes a storm would come,
and disarray the whole room, her complete life, and his,
blow away the envelope along with the gust,
leaving a hole in their life,
causing nothing to end, nothing to stop;
just complete the cycle, and set free the love buried within…

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